


Sour Candy

by ghoulaesthetics (astraielle)



Series: Cat Ryder vs. The Universe [6]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/pseuds/ghoulaesthetics
Summary: A series of scenes in varying lengths examining Catrina 'Cat' Ryder's relationships with her crew, her family, and a few uncategorized others.--Additional tags to be added with new chapters. Rating is more of a generalized thing just in case.





	1. The King

**Author's Note:**

> so. reyes. cool dude. on the surface, most people who've read up on cat assume she'd like him. they're half right.

Ryder doesn’t care for Reyes all that much, truthfully. 

Or well, she does--Cat likes him well enough, finds his demeanour easy to talk to and get along with, and she infinitely prefers his version of Kadara over Sloane Kelly’s. 

But that was just it. That was the one thing that had saved him that day, the one thing that kept her mouth shut when she saw the sniper’s scope trained on Sloane. Kelly didn’t like her, and made no secret of it. They rubbed each other the wrong way from the start, and it was pretty clear to Ryder that working with this woman to bring stability to Kadara was going to be a royal pain in the ass, if she was able to make it to negotiations with her at all. Afterall, she’d been gently ejected from the ‘throne’ room no less than three times in less than twenty-four hours with her. Cat was used to being disrespected and looked down upon--her first interaction with Addison had pretty much set the tone for any encounters with authority she’d have after that. But here, she truly was at the disadvantage. 

Reyes, though, he’d been willing to work with her, willing to give her a foothold on the planet. Provided, of course, she help him out first. 

“It’s symbiotic, no?” He’d joked. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Deal?” 

And she had agreed to it completely, an easy, careless smile on her face the whole time. 

She’d had no way of knowing he was the Charlatan at the time, and in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t ultimately matter to her. Oh, it was definitely a plus, she wouldn’t deny that. She just knew that he liked her as a person. Trusted? Maybe. But where Sloane was putting up walls, he was rolling out the welcome mat for her and her crew. 

When the dust had settled and he had his system of government established, he invited her back to share another round of six-hundred-year-old liquor with him on the roof of the bar. 

“So,” she asked as he poured her glass, “Is this what I can look forward to from now on? Some sort of special treatment every time I come down?” 

“Well,” he chuckled, “If you’re asking about the drinks, there is a limit on the vintage.” 

“Not really what I meant, but good to know.” 

“I know,” he replied cooly, “I know what you meant. And a deal is a deal, Ryder--you kept your promise, and I’m going to keep mine.”

“No strings attached?”

“Assuming we don’t need to keep assisting each other, I can’t see why there would be.”

“Hm.” The liquor slipped smoothly down her throat, leaving a burning trail in its wake before settling in the pit of her stomach. It was rich. Flavourful. “You’re an interesting guy, Reyes. Hard to peg down.” She snickered, looking over the rim of her cup. “I like that.”

“But you don’t trust it,” he finished for her, chuckling with a slight shake of his head. “Too bad. I would trust you.” 

“Well, far be it for me to tell the Charlatan _and_  the King of Kadara what to do,” she said as she placed down the cup, “but no offence, if I were you, that’s the last thing I’d do.”

“Oh?” He looked at her bemusedly out of the corner of his eye. “And, if you were me, why would I not want to do that?” 

Turning her face towards him, she grinned, shrugging and leaning back on the crate she was sitting on. The woodgrains felt too pronounced to her hands. “Well, I’d look at the big picture here--look at the person sitting next to me who was, technically speaking, perfectly fine with her complacent role in a murder she could have prevented because the result would benefit her. I’d think long and hard about the things she’s willing to do to finish her own job and look out for herself and everything she thinks is worthy of her protection--and still look good while doing it. And I’d realize, I think, that all the power on Kadara, interesting conversation, bad pickup lines and good liquor in the galaxy wouldn’t stop her from putting a bullet between my eyes if she thought she needed to.” 

With that, she lazily looked back up at the sky, closing her eyes to feel the setting sun on her face. “But that’s just what I would do. Where do you really stand, Mr Vidal?” She laughed, challenging him. 

He chuckled again, this time more sardonic than before. There was a pause before he spoke again, taking a swig of his drink. 

“I think you might not be as soft as I thought you were,” he said easily. “Almost had me fooled. Almost. Truthfully, I think you’re just as power-hungry as people think I am--you just hide it better.” 

“Not really,” she sighed. “If anything, I’m more open about it. It just slips under the radar for the most part--tends to happen when people assume you’re a fucking idiot,” she said. “You, on the other hand? Too smart. Puts people on edge.” 

“Maybe,” he grinned. “But, you’re right, Ryder. But, let’s switch this around, say that I was  _you_  for a minute.” 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” 

“If I were you,” he mused, “I wouldn’t be so quick to assume that I had the upper hand here the whole time--I’d catch myself on that cockiness, and stop to consider the possibility that I might be playing on a level field here, since I don’t know how far this man’s reach goes, or what he can do that would somehow stop me from achieving my own goals. I’d focus more on establishing a balance here, rather than trying to play mind games that I won’t necessarily win. And I’d know in my heart, that as much as I’m willing to kill him, he’s willing to kill me too.”

She pondered that for a moment. “Is it weird that this is probably the most refreshing conversation I’ve had in days? Like, we’ve just both openly admitted we’re down to murder each other if we become a problem for the other half--but it’s not making me like you any less.” 

“We’re similar,” he commented. “Different goals, different ways of going towards it, but ultimately, the ends justify the means, don’t they Ryder?”

“Extend one hand, arm the other,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll drink to that,” she said lightly. “And, to the unspoken rule that this conversation stays up here.” 

He extended his glass towards her. “Of course. What’s a little gossip between friends? Cheers, Ryder--to the new galaxy and the people who run it from the dark.” 

With a warm laugh, she clinked her glass to his. “Cheers, Reyes. And let’s hope we never have to move that other hand.” 


	2. The Lieutenant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cat tries hard with cora & by tries hard i mean not at all

“Hey Cora, can I do your makeup right now?”

She’s drunk, Cora can smell the whiskey off her breath from four feet away. If that wasn’t the tip-off, then the fact that Ryder was being so nice to her definitely was. 

“I… What?” Her brain temporarily short-circuited–-according to the clock on the kitchen wall, it was the equivalent of three in the morning. 

“Oh, come on Harper, easy question,” She said as she moved forward with a surprising amount of grace. She cornered Cora against the counter, standing on her toes so that their faces were level. “Can I do your makeup right now?” 

Instead of answering her, Cora’s eyes darted between the clock and her face several times. “We have a mission is six hours,” she informed her curtly. “You should be focused more on sobering up.” 

“Correction,” she held her index finger between them, “We have a scheduled arrival in six hours–Kallo and Suvi said so. I’ll sober up way before that.”

“Most people are asleep right now,” she pointed out, irritatedly batting Cat’s hand down. 

“You’re still up,” she pointed out with a smug little grin. “And so am I–which leads me back to my original question–yes or no?”

Cora chewed her bottom lip between her teeth briefly. There was a kettle she’d just turned on behind her, heating water for some tea. She’d planned to enjoy the piping hot beverage by herself in her small makeshift greenhouse. But in front of her, blocking her path both literally and figuratively, was the sturdy and stubborn body of the Pathfinder.   _ Her  _ Pathfinder, would she also qualify as the Tempest Captain? She definitely commanded the whole operation, much to Cora’s distaste. And she wasn’t so sure that her desire to see Andromeda successfully settled outweighed her desire to watch Catrina Ryder crash and burn spectacularly. 

“Ground control to Lieutenant Harper–can we get an answer sometime today? That’d be  _ swell _ .” She didn’t sound particularly peeved, or even that surprised that Cora had just been staring at her blankly for the last minute. 

Clenching down hard on her teeth, she made a conscious effort to relax as she exhaled before answering. “You know what? Fine.” 

“Cool,” Ryder said cheerfully, rocking back on her heels and giving Cora room to move finally. “You gonna follow or should I go ahead and carry you out?”

“Out?” She asked.

“Well, yeah,” she stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t plan on doing this in the kitchen.” With that, she turned around, practically in a pivot, and went in the general direction of her quarters. 

_ What the hell are you doing? _ She thought bitterly to herself as she followed with one last forlorn look at her would-have-been tea.  _ This is stupid, there’s nothing to be gained from spending time with this woman–you’ll only get annoyed, and then you won’t be able to sleep, and then what? _ A deep scowl had set itself on her features, but her feet seemed to follow Ryder of their own desire in spite of that.

In front of her, Ryder babbled on as she fumbled with the keypad to her door, fingers slipping over the touch-sensitive keys as she tried to work the lock. “–and like, it’s pretty nice in here actually? I’m not complaining at all with what I ended up with on this ship. The Nexus apartment is absolute shit though–standard issue prison cell kinda deal, I think? I dunno. It’s a lot smaller. Darker. Kinda reminds me of a shoebox or something.” She hadn’t stopped talking since they’d left the kitchen, but Cora had apparently been effectively tuning her out the entire time. 

“Er, right,” she said when Cat finally took a break, assuming it was her turn to give an automated answer. It wasn’t–Cat had merely managed to let them in with a small noise of triumph. 

“Sit in the desk chair,” she instructed as she stepped in the opposite direction of where she pointed Cora. “I have to find what I have in mind first.” 

Cora said nothing, instead taking in the room around her–it was, for want of a better word, luxurious. Or at least, what passed for such in Andromeda. Even the bed was at least three times the size of what she was sleeping in. And while she normally wasn’t one to envy material things, the massive windows surrounding the space were making it difficult. But, because she was given a direct order (albeit by someone who took a solid five minutes to unlock her own door) she followed it, folding herself cleaning into the plush desk chair to wait. It wasn’t nearly as long as the wait for the lock. 

“Found what I wanted,” she announced as she walked towards where Cora was left. She placed the smallish black bag on the desk, and then followed by perching herself next to it. Sitting cross-legged, she rummaged around in the bag before she pulled out what looked to be a small assortment of palettes and a few other miscellaneous items. “I never wear these colours,” she confessed, “And I’m not really sure why I bought them at the kiosk when I did–must have just been the impulse for normalcy.” 

It came out so easily that it actually startled Cora. “I thought you were having a great time out here,” she said as Ryder tilted her face up towards her to get a better angle. “I would have guessed that ‘normal’ wouldn’t have been high on your list of priorities.” Though she made a point of trying to keep her tone even, notes of accusation crept into her voice.

Ryder laughed tersely, beginning to carefully apply the first eyeshadow pigments to her eyes. She’d selected a palette of matte blues and metallic greys. It made Cora think of winter, but the kind of winter that would close down roadways with slush and ice instead of the sweet, soft kind of winter she’d seen in vids. Not that she’d ever experienced either of them, but she’d heard more accounts of the first kind than the second. 

“Right, because this hasn’t been a complete shitshow for me from the start--you don’t have to pretend either of us are okay with it, you know. It’s not doing anyone any favours. Just like,” she said, voice dropping slightly lower as she concentrated on her lines, “Just like I don’t expect you to like me personally just ‘cause I happen to be your boss on this ship. And you don’t exactly have the acting chops to hide that from me,” she smirked. 

Cora tapped her fingertips rhythmically on the armrest. “What makes you say that?” She asked slowly, feeling every swipe of the tiny brush over the thin membranes of her eyelids. 

“Call it a hunch,” she shrugged. “A feeling. And then compound it with how you acted when you told me Alec was dead and every day after that--don’t think I forgot. No hard feelings, of course, but it’s not the kind of shit that just gets left behind.”

She swallowed, but otherwise remained still. Ryder’s hand, the one that was holding her face in place, was somehow warm and clammy at the same time. “Alec was my mentor. I cared about him. Looked up to him. And you were under-qualified for the job. My job,” she replied curtly. 

That made Cat laugh. There was a split second of silence, and Cora dared open her eyes slightly, watching Ryder’s reaction carefully. She seemed almost stunned for a fraction of a beat, before she threw her head back and unleashed the sharp, harsh sound. Whatever pain that Cora may have hoped to inflict from her words (though she’d never admit that was her intention) never actually came.

“ _ Under-qual _ \--fuck’s sake Harper, I may not have had ‘Pathfinder’ training like you and that prick, but I mean come  _ on- _ -did you even read my file before this whole thing went down?” 

She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point of it--not after everything had been decided, and not before since you wouldn’t have been the one in charge.” It was an honest answer, and knowing that there wasn’t really a way she could offend Ryder made it easily. “Why, was there something relevant I was going to find in there?” 

“N6,” she said simply, looking through the bag for something else, possibly a new colour, Cora didn’t know. 

“Excuse me?”

“My last rank before we left for Andromeda--N6.” She gave Cora a placid smile, fiddling with the cap to a small pot of gel eyeliner. “Just, you know, so you had some peace of mind that I’m not some fucking hack at the helm of this whole thing. Close your eyes again.” 

Cora complied, saying nothing. “I take it you didn’t see that one coming,” Ryder said, and Cora could hear the smirk in her voice. 

“It wasn’t at the top of my list,” she admitted tightly. “I knew you were Alliance military, but…”

“But not actually good at my job,” she finished for her. “They seemed to think I did pretty well for myself.” 

“So why not complete it?” She asked. Ryder’s hand stilled. The alcohol smell had dissipated significantly from the time they left the kitchen to now. “Why not finish the training before we left?”

“I think that’s an in-depth story for another day, Lieutenant. But, to give you the short version--it wasn’t a timing thing, that’s for sure. I’d say ask your mentor, but, well, he’s kind of dead.He knew, though. He knew.” She was quiet near the end, content to let the story trail off there. “I’m sure you can draw your own conclusions, Harper. You’re not stupid.”

Cora went over what she knew of Alec quickly, a mental checklist. He was former N7, discharged, the father of the AI SAM, and before his daughter, the officially selected Pathfinder. There was nothing in the history that stood out to her in particular. 

“You’re not going to tell me, are you.” It was a statement, not a question. 

“Nope,” she replied cheerfully. “ _ That _ story is some level five friend shit--unless you’re offering to suck me off for it, in which case I can probably bump you up on the list,” she grinned. 

She pulled a face. “That’s completely vulgar and unprofessional.” 

“Hah! It’s off hours, Harper--and even if it wasn’t, regulations don’t scare me on my own ship. I know what the fuck I said.” 

“Evidently,” she said sourly. 

“Oh, there’s evidence alright--but that’s irrelevant right now. I’m done with your eyes. Wanna see?”

She took the small hand mirror from Ryder’s hand. It was a pretty, metallic-blue smokey eye look with cat eyes in navy and a touch of glitter in the inner corners. A bit shaky around some parts, but overall, not bad. “It’s not what I would have decided on. But it’s nice.”

“It’s more of a relaxation exercise for me that it was a favour or you,” she admitted, admiring her work. “Like I said, not my usual colours. Not bad on you though.” She looked at her thoughtfully, as if trying to place her but having difficulty bringing her into focus. “Not bad at all.” 

Cora rose before she could be dismissed. She paused as she turned towards the door, asking without looking back at her, “When you said--when you mentioned the way I was right after his death, I guess I didn’t realize how that came off. For what it’s worth, I apologize if I was too...harsh about the whole thing.” 

Ryder laughed easily again. “Don’t lose sleep over it Harper--he was a jackass. I wasn’t exactly torn up over it. I’d work on that bedside manner, though. Just in case.” 

She had no idea what the ‘just in case’ could have referred to. “Right,” she said through clenched teeth. “Goodnight, Ryder,” she said as she started to leave once more. 

“Hey, Cora?” She asked distantly before she could completely step out, giving her pause. She said nothing, hoping the fact that she stopped would be enough. 

“One day we should talk again. For real. The part of me that’s morbidly curious wants to know what a capable person like you saw in him to follow into a whole other galaxy.” 

Cora turned her head to look at her one last time. She was still sitting crisscross on the desk, looking at her with an odd sort of innocence that she wouldn’t have ever placed on her face otherwise. She wanted to say something back, something that would save her and Alec. She could conjure nothing. Instead, she let out a sigh, another “Goodnight, Ryder,” and let the doors shut behind her. 

Perhaps now she could get to that tea. 


	3. The Academic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vague spoliers for peebee's loyaly mission i guess

Normally, when people were entering someone else’s space, they would announce it in some way and then wait for permission to enter. Not so with Ryder. 

“I’m coming in,” she announced, fighting off the primal urge to kick the automatic doors open. At the very least, she had the decency to announce herself. Not that she actually gave a damn whether or not Peebee would let her in. 

Peebee was facing away from the door, tinkering away at her deck. Bits to tech and wires were strewn around the room--things Cat had a vague understanding of from her comprehensive training years ago, but didn’t trust herself to work with now. Poc hovered peacefully by the entrance to the escape pod. 

“You’re up early,” Peebee said to her without turning around. She wasn’t surprised that Ryder had just walked in either--they’d established the fact that most spaces on this ship were communal. To the Pathfinder, anyway. 

“I didn’t sleep,” she said as she searched for a flat surface that wasn’t covered in wires to sit on. After a few moments, she simply gave up and found a stop on the floor. “Not by choice, naturally.”

“Naturally,” she repeated, hint of a smile in her tone. “Got bored of filling the empty hours just staring at the wall?” She teased. 

“Actually, I was trying to determine possible locations of Kett bases,” she grinned, closing both of her hands over the cup of coffee she’d brought in. For some reason, Peebee liked to keep the temperature in here a few degrees cooler than the rest of the Tempest. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough to make Cat bring herself a sweater if she decided to visit. “Geographics, accessibility, cover, all that fun stuff. SAM helped. Must’ve gone for hours.” She took a sip wrinkling her nose when she realized she hadn’t put enough sugar in the drink. 

“Sounds riveting,” She said with forced enthusiasm. “So, what brings you to my neck of the woods on this fine morning at the hour of... Oh, wow, five in the morning. Look at that.” She turned around to face Ryder, pushing the protective glasses she was wearing onto her forehead. She wasn’t wearing her habitual eye makeup yet, and Cat thought it somehow made her look older. 

Cat shrugged. “Got bored. Knew that you’d be around too. Sometimes when I stare at the maps too long my eyes start to burn.” 

“And SAM doesn’t have a cure for that? He can stop your heart but he can’t moisten those eyes?”

“Okay one, I hate the way you phrased that,” She laughed, “And two, no, no he can’t. We’re stuck in this bizarre loop where he has a monopoly on my brain but can’t actually do anything about ninety percent of my physical body.” Forgetting about how nasty the coffee in her hand was already established to taste, she took another drink without thinking and made another disgusted face. Peebee laughed at her. 

“Anyway, I just came to see what was good up in here. And I guess to see how you’re holding up after the volcano thing.” She was quiet when she said it, running her thumb over the handle of her mug. It was one of those ridiculous novelty cups, one she’d picked up on Kadara on impulse. It was pink, covered in green sharks, with a tiny ceramic shark on a post embedded in the handle. When she flicked it, it would rotate and face its smiling jaw back at her. She was spinning it quite intently right now. 

“Oh. Um, that. Yeah--you know me, just moving on and stuff. Focusing on the bigger picture. I’m fine.” Abruptly, she pulled the safety goggles back down on her face and turned back to her work, fiddling with something that Cat couldn’t see from her vantage point on the floor.

“I know you’re fine,” she said slowly. “Just, you know, it was a thing that happened... That I kinda caused, so...” She trailed off, letting the rest of the phrase piece itself together in Peebee’s head. There were a number of ways she could have completed it, and none of them would have been wrong. 

Peebee’s arm jerked, and something made a loud clicking noise. “Yeah, you kinda did. It doesn’t matter now. You made a quick decision, and we’ve got this tech now. That’s something.” 

“But you don’t necessarily agree with the outcome.”

“Why bother getting it technicalities?” She said, grunting as she attempted to pry something apart. “It happened. I’m not upset about it. Or, in the long term anyway. People leave. That’s just something that happens, especially when you have as many years as an Asari. Sometimes they just make a more dramatic exit.” She shrugged, and the piece she was trying to grab at finally popped off. It was a mess of wiring in her hand, and she looked at it with mild triumph before placing it gently on her worktable. 

Cat pondered that statement. She thought of her own father, and the way he ended up leaving her life--Cat always pictured it in her head as her being the one to leave him, in a fit of pride or rage or both. But either way, it was supposed to be her in control of things. Instead, it had been his decision once again, and one that left her in his debt. Even now it still left a taste of resentment in her mouth. 

“That’s--you’re right,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “That’s exactly how that works.” 

She felt stupid--wasn’t that the whole reason she was here in the first place? Cat liked Peebee quite a bit; they got along on several levels. This first being their shared nonchalant attitudes, and the desire to  _go_  and  _do_. The second was something that, while they hadn’t spoken aloud of it, they both seemed to know and sense. The avoidance of problems, how they could run infinitely on from emotional trauma. It was the bond between two people that were ready to jump ship at a moment’s notice, who liked to keep people at arm’s length for their own safety. And it was because of this strange bond (that benefitted neither of them) that Cat had decided to check up on her. The offer at least, being put forth in good faith. She wasn’t sure what she expected out of this, but the curt, pragmatic answers didn’t come as a surprise. 

“Of course it is,” she scoffed. “Cat, I’ve got like, three hundred plus years on you--I’ve seen some shit.” 

“Could have fooled me,” she rolled her eyes. “You encourage me to do stupid and immature shit all the time. And sometimes you  _start_  it.”

Peebee ‘tsk’d’. “Asshole. It’s  _selective_ maturity, you know, and when you hit a certain level you can decide when to activate it. Of course, you’ll probably be dead by the time that year rolls around.”

“Ouch,” she laughed. “That’s the last time I ever give you credit for anything. You won’t catch my ass agreeing with you again.”

“Oh yeah? I can disprove that.”

“Go for it.”

She whirled around to face her, looking down and grinning. “I’m going down to the kitchen to make some French toast. There will be enough for two people. Admit that I’m right again between now and then, and you can come.”

Cat narrowed her eyes at her. “What’s the statement?”

“That I make good breakfast?” She said with a wink.

“Oh, you fucker,” Cat grinned sharply. “Alright, alright, I’ll concede--you do make pretty good breakfasts.”

“Damn right, now come on, let’s go grab it.” 

As she stood up, she gave the ceramic shark one more spin. Maybe this day wouldn’t be as bad as most of the others had been. 

(But really, who’s keeping count?)


	4. The Engineer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cat is not a good gambler

“Wow, you are really,  _really_  bad at this.”

Gil sounded almost impressed as Cat scowled at the cards in her hand. He wasn’t wrong; she was a terrible gambler.

“You know I could just--”

“I know, I know,” he waved his hand, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence, “You could use SAM to cheat this game--but where would the fun be in that?” 

She glared hard at him. “I assume you mean fun for you--not really sure how getting my ass kicked by you for the past hour is fun for me.”

He laughed breezily and leaned back in his seat. “Well, of course I did. Watching you flounder over there has been the most joy I’ve had for over a year. Anyone tell ever you you’ve got a terrible poker face?”

“You might have mentioned that a few times today,” she sighed bitterly, throwing her cards down on the table face up. “I give up. This is a hand of twos and fives and I can’t do anything with it.”

Gil shrugged before showing his own cards, the current teaching game apparently over. “And I’ve got a hand of tens and sevens, what’s your point? It’s a mind game, Ryder--all about the mind games.” As a courtesy (and in anticipation of the fact that she wouldn’t be able to win a single game) he’d ordered them both drinks from the bar. With a small, stupid grin, he plucked the umbrella from his own drink and placed it just inside the rim of her beer. She stared at the object like she wanted to stab it.

“Yeah, well, I never said I was good at those--not really my style.” She fiddled with Gil’s umbrella, idly spinning it around the inner edge. Now that the game was over, she could try to actually relax. Sinking into the plush-backed booth, she crossed her legs comfortably under the table, slipping off her heavy combat-grade boots. Recently she’d begun fantasizing about having a reason to wear real shoes again. Maybe someday, hopefully soon. 

“No shit,” he scoffed. “I’d call you a biotic bludgeon before I’d call you a negotiator,” he chuckled, raising his glass towards her.

“Hey! I’m not a bad negotiator--people just don’t take me seriously until I show them there’s a reason to.” She grinned. For good measure, a flicker of blue from her fingers flipped the remaining deck of cards over. It earned her a sarcastic round of clapping from Gil.

“Oh, now I’m shaking in my boots. I bow to you, oh great Master Negotiator.” 

“Go to hell,” she laughed. “Besides, I have other people on that ship who like to do that shit for me.” She rolled her eyes, remembering the way Cora continually tried to jump up and ‘volunteer’ to speak with Tann or Evfra. She didn’t care for that sort of task either, but she’d be dead before she let someone try and undermine what little authority she was struggling to hang onto. Gil, at least, was a nice break from things--the engine room was separate enough from the main buzz of the crew that he wouldn’t get involved in such politics. And even if he was, he had a strong suspicion that he’d be over that sort of thing anyway.

“Yeah, and I’m sure they love your method of doing it too,” he smirked.

“Does it not get done?” She asked with a cocky grin, gesturing widely. “Do I not make it work?”

“You do something, that’s for sure,” he acknowledged.

“Goddamn right I do. Anyone who has a problem with my methods, frankly? Can kiss my fucking ass.” It came out more harshly than she wanted, and she noticed it in the way Gil raised both eyebrows at her minor outburst in the midst of their joking. 

He let out a quick, semi-surprised whistle. “Sounds like someone’s feeling a little bit harried and underappreciated.” 

She sighed, once again staring at the small umbrella in her beer. She didn’t have the heart to move it out of the drink so she could have a sip. “Yeah, sorry--kind of. I mean, I know we’ve only got the two outposts set, and they’re having all kinds of issues still but it’s like--I’m not doing a  _bad_  job, you know? It’s not the job that that other asshole would have done, but things are still moving forward.”

He reached forward and patted the hand she was resting on the table sympathetically. “Can’t say I understand, but you look like you’re holding up well enough under the stress, if that helps.”

“Usually,” she said. “I gotta ask--is the mask flawless though? Like if you didn’t know me and we weren’t having this conversation, what would you think?”

“Of you?” He asked, quirking a brow. “From the outside, you look like you’ve got it under control. Or, well, as best you can, considering Tann basically shoved a steaming trash heap your way with minimal instruction and told you to ‘fix it’,” he chuckled warmly. “You’re doing better than you feel, probably, if I had to guess. Wouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

That seemed to perk her up considerably. “Glad to hear at least one person in the hellhole has my back,” she said. “I know they’ve got their own suggested schedule for how I should be progressing, but personally? I just kinda want to get this shit presentable before Scott clocks in.”

“He’s still not up yet?” He asked as he lifted his glass to his mouth.

“You don’t think I wouldn’t be shouting about it if he was?” She asked dubiously. 

“Fair point, fair point,” he took a sip. “You two close?”

“He’s achieved best friend nirvana at least thirty times over by now,” she confessed. “So yeah, I’d say we’re pretty close,” she laughed.

“Yeah? I always thought siblings would be at each other’s throats for the most part. Probably worse if you’re a twin.”

She shrugged, non-committal. “I mean, we’ve definitely gotten into scuffles before but like--he’s one of the most important people alive to me.” She was back to looking to the umbrella, small and vibrant. A soft, sad smile appeared on her mouth and an uncharacteristic forlorn look settled in her eyes.

“You miss him,” he acknowledged gently. Rare was it that he saw this side of her, and he suspected that once the moment passed he’d probably never see it again. He fought the urge to tap his foot or drum his fingers on the table; yes, Cat was his friend, but seeing her in an open state like this was just downright uncomfortable. But hell, didn’t she deserve a place to vent a little bit? Acting like he was completely okay with this was the least he could do for her. Or at the ultimate, very least, he could tactfully steer her out of total despair in the conversation. 

But then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to. At that moment she seemed to catch herself, blinking hard a few times and raising her head. Her back straightened and she shoulders squared out, making her frame look as though it was occupying more space than it actually did. 

“I do. But he’ll be up and fucking around soon. Probably ready to yell at me for my driving skills, or something. He’ll be fine. He’s put up with me for twenty-five years, right? Can’t get much worse than that. He’ll be up soon, I’d bet money on it.” Her words gained confidence as she went, like she was forcing herself to believe them as they came. Better for him. 

His ears pricked up at the mention of money and betting, still fresh off the high of winning yet another poker game against her. Not to mention the fact it would be a good segue into a new conversation that had nothing to do with her responsibilities or her comatose brother. 

“Bet money on another game?” He asked hopefully, raising a glass at the cards. 

She scoffed. “Not likely--you’ve cleaned me out for the day I think.”

“I’ll buy you another round if you say yes,” he said.

She felt the weight of the near-empty bottle in her hand, looked at the deck, looked up to the bar, and then back to Gil. She heaved a sigh and resigned herself to her fate. 

“Hit me.” 


	5. The Responder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like liam a whole lot & he ended up being one of the squad members i took out often. his friendship with cat is one of the ones she comes to value the most.

“Can I– _watch it!_ –can I ask you a fair question, Ryder?” 

Cat didn’t take her eyes off the road in front of her, barely peering out at Liam from the corner of her eye. “Is it a comment on my driving?”

“What if it is?” He gripped the handle of his door even tighter when she hit another hard bump on the Eos surface. 

“If it is, I’d tell you to shut the fuck up,” she said cheerfully, swerving to avoid a deep pit before them and missing it, but just barely. Liam swore under his breath beside her. Behind them, Jaal snored peacefully in the back seat, oblivious to the violent driving and many near-misses. 

“That, I have no doubt you will.” He let out another noise of dissatisfaction, trying to brace himself in the Nomad as best as he could as she hit a sharp turn. “I have no idea how he manages to sleep through this, seriously.” 

She shrugged as best as she could with both hands on the wheel of the Nomad. “I could probably fall asleep with me driving too. It’s not  _that_  bad.” 

He swivelled his head around, looking at her and glaring hard. “Ryder, don’t you  _dare_  pass out at the wheel–if we die I’ll absolutely kick your ass for it in the afterlife. That’s not even a question.” 

“You’re invited to try,” she grinned, pulling another unnecessarily hard turn. “My ghost would be the one doing the ass-kicking though.” She paused, frowning slightly in thought. “Do you think we could still use our biotics in a ghost fight?”

Liam scoffed, halfway towards a laugh. “What kind of question is  _that?_ ”

“A general curiosity?” She offered, half serious. “We’ve got more than a few hours to kill before we hit the navpoint. Answer the question, Kosta. In the event that I end up killing us all, and we end up in a post-death face off, would there be biotics involved or not?”

“That’s one of the dumbest things you’ve ever asked me,” he deadpanned. “But okay, let’s humour it–no, I don’t think we’d have them still. I think it’d have to be a fistfight.”

She arched an eyebrow at that. “Yeah? So in this theoretical, we can buy into a spirit form being a real thing that us as real people would  _really_  have, but hanging onto our biotics is too much? Like I’d think actually being able to hit each other would be the bigger issues. Unless we’re talking poltergeists, ghosts can’t touch shit.” 

He rolled his eyes at her, trying his best to sit comfortably in the seat with the incessant hazardous driving. “You think ghosts can’t hit each other? They exist in the same little… I don’t know, pocket universe where ghosts exist. They can see each other, so they can probably touch each other too? I just feel like the rules of biotics wouldn’t quite apply there, you know?” 

“So you’re some kind of ghost expert now? Some kind of afterlife authority?” She laughed, and then swore as she had to pull the breaks at the last minute to avoid another sinkhole. 

“Fuck, Ryder, keep that up and we’ll probably find out,” he huffed. Liam had more or less abandoned the idea of comfort at that point, resigning himself to gripping whatever he could find for support hard enough that the veins in his arms would be visible with the tension. 

“I’m just saying,” she went on, ignoring the hard look she was getting from the passenger seat, “having a power where we could literally  _move shit with our minds_  makes more sense for a ghost that have.”

“You’re so full of shit,” he chuckled. “And you’ll definitely be responsible for any injuries we get today, I’m calling it. I’m going to step out of this car with a brusied tailbone and a new limp and I’ll know exactly who to blame,  _Pathfinder._ ” 

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who  _wanted_  to come,” she said. “You knew the risks and you still got into the Nomad. Could’ve gone back to the Tempest at any point before that but  _no_ , you wanted to be down here with the ground team.” 

“Look, just because you’ve got  _Pathfinder_ in you title doesn’t mean you have to be the one behind the wheel,” he pointed out. 

“Uh, yeah it does,” she said, her tone overexaggerated and sarcastic. “Pathfinder? The one who finds the paths? It’s like, right there in the name, jeez Kosta.” She pointed to the insignia on her chestplate, rapidly looking at it, the road, and then him to ensure he could see what she was doing. “See? Right there? Pathfinder. Driving authority.”

 _“Bullshit_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And I bet Jaal would back me up on this one.”

“You mean the same Jaal that looks perfectly happy to be napping in the same vehicle? He’d totally take my side on it.” 

“ _Riiiiiiight,_ ” he said, “And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been trying to sleep with him?” 

She laughed, hard, and the Nomad seemed to move with her. “I mean, maybe. Operative word being ‘trying’ though. It’s not uh…” She trailed off as she peeked in the mirror at the back seat, checking to make sure she wouldn’t be heard. “It’s not like, air-tight or anything like that yet. Nothing’s really finalized.”

“That’s… surprising.” He said thoughtfully. “It’s not like I knew you before or anything but I definitely heard some things about… Well. You know.”

She grimaced slightly. “Yeah, trust me, I’m familiar with what kind of a reputation I had back home. Honestly? Most of it was true.” Catching the surprised look she got, she shrugged and went on. “I like sex, Liam. I like it a lot. And I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Very true,” he agreed solemnly, and she laughed again.

“I was worse back then, though. Like, yeah, I was good at my job, but I was also  _mean_. Angry all the damn time. Picked a  _lot_  of fights. And people went for what they thought would be an obvious blow.” She tapped her fingers idly on the wheel, remembering. “Weirdly enough it never really affected my game,” she chuckled. 

“Right, because you’ve been so successful lately,” he grinned, nudging her slightly with an elbow. Outside, the desert haze of Eos stretched on for miles, but somewhere near the middle, he could see the lake cutting in neatly in half. 

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, smiling all the same. “This is different. I actually give a shit this time. It’s fucking  _weird._ ” 

“If that’s your baseline for weird I’d hate to see what  _normal_  is.” 

“It’s usually hungover and smells like regret and ryncol,” she said dryly. Beside her, Liam nearly choked laughing. “Like, fucked up as it sounds with what a shitshow this galaxy has been, but I’ve actually felt… good lately, I think? I don’t know. I don’t want to die so bad every day of my life,” she grinned, “and I think I wouldn’t mind getting used to that.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he agreed. “Obviously haven’t seen it like you have, or, you know, even in the Milky Way. But I can’t see anyone else heading this team. You get shit done. I respect that. Piss a lot of people off too, but we’re laughing about it, so who cares? You’re built for this, and I’m glad I get a front seat to it.”

“Liam I swear to  _God_  if you make me cry I will drive us into the ditch.” She was joking, of course, having no intention to purposefully do such a thing, but it was still overwhelmingly pleasant to hear words like that from someone she considered a friend. And if her eyes got a little glassy, no one was saying anything. 

“If you do that I’ll make good on that ass-kicking after death, Ryder, don’t test me.” Just like that, the sappiness of the moment was gone, but there was no bite to either of their words–just the gentle teasing between two people who had seen a great deal together in a short time. It was going to be a long drive, and they’d have plenty of time for the deeper things later. If not today, then tomorrow or the day after. For now, it was back to discussions of things that ultimately meant nothing and served no purpose aside from laughter. 


End file.
